


Walk Before You Run

by YukiOnnaOfWinter



Series: Weakness [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HBP AU, M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiOnnaOfWinter/pseuds/YukiOnnaOfWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Weakness.  Harry has returned from his trip into the past.  He's still in love with Tom but this Tom is a murderer and evil.  Harry's still the saviour so what can he do?  Slash.  HPTR  CURRENTLY RE-WRITING THIS AND WEAKNESS TO FIT IN CLOSER TO CANON</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never say goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> I don't own Harry Potter.  
> (This is also being posted on fanfiction.net under the same name and it'll be posted there a couple days before it's here.)  
> Enjoy!

“Harry!” Harrison- no Harry now, Harrison is dead- turned to look at Hermione across the classroom. It’s the first lesson since…then…but Snape’s running late. Harry laughed a little under his breath as he thought of his new Potions knowledge and how he’d used it that morning. He shook the smile of his face and pushed his fringe back to look Hermione in the eyes. He’d let his mop of hair grow out over the summer and now it resembled something people would call emo.

“Yes, Hermione?” He smiled warmly at his friend. No matter how much he missed the past and…him, he still loved being with his friends.

“Does your scar hurt?” Harry frowned. “It’s just, you didn’t eat much at breakfast and I’m-“ She glanced towards Ron, who nodded. “-We’re worried.”

“Yeah mate. You’ve definitely changed.” Hermione opened her mouth to continue when Snape burst into the room. She slammed her mouth shut and turned to the front to listen to the professor saying… nothing?

Snape’s mouth opened and closed in a parody of speech but no sound escaped. Some of the class began to snigger; he looked like a goldfish standing in the middle of the room with his mouth open. Despite the grinning students it was Harry’s small smirk that Snape fixated on. He walked menacingly towards him, arms flailing and jaw moving, not a single sound escaping. You could clearly read his expression though. Detention. Oops, guess Harry would have to bribe the portraits in Snape’s room next time.

He was halfway to the Slytherin dorm before he realised there was no reason to be there anymore. The thought stopped him in his tracks and he almost started crying before he turned and ran for the Gryffindor dorms, far from the haunting memory of Tom.

“Where’ve you been?” He was questioned almost as soon as he entered the room. Ron and Neville were sat on the sofa in the common room, briefly he wondered how long they’d been waiting.

“Detention. Snape had me washing all of his potions equipment.” Not true. He’d gone to the astronomy tower after the detention. Harry moved towards the stairs when Neville grabbed his arm.

“You look awful Harry.”

“Neville’s right mate. You ain’t been the same since that night Dumbledore called you into his office.” Right. That’d only been a week ago. It felt like a lifetime and Harry felt himself being drawn into the memories before Ron’s voice brought him back.

“Merlin Harry. Go to bed. You look like you’re about to keel over.” Harry nodded and climbed the stairs to the dorms. His dreams were plagued with the face of his lost love.


	2. Never

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter

“Never is an awfully long time.”

Tom Riddle (past)

It was rare for students to meet the train when it pulled into Hogwarts station. It was then, as Tom Riddle stood partially hidden (but not hiding) behind a tree, that Tom realised how much he had missed Harrison over the holidays. Throughout his time alone in Hogwarts he constantly found himself turning to the side, expecting to see Harrison there, before realising he was alone. But not anymore. As the train turned the final corner he watched the steam rise into the air. Soon Harrison would be back and that’s all that mattered.

He’s not here. The thought spins round and round in his head until it’s not even a thought. He begins to speak aloud; mutterings under his breath. Over and over again; “He’s not here. Not here. Not here.” He’s sat alone in the astronomy tower his legs are pulled tight to his chest and he whispers into his knees. He replays the day’s events over and over in his head; he curses the stupid professor, and curses Harrison once before guilt overwhelms him.

When Harrison never got off the train Tom felt confusion. He assumed he had missed him and went back to the castle but he wasn’t in the great hall or the Slytherin dorms either. He wasn’t at Hogwarts at all it would seem. Tom had silently panicked realising for the first time that he had never received any letters from Harrison during the holidays, he had been so used to it before when he cared for no one that the silence hadn’t bothered him.  
“I’m afraid Tom that Mr Porter will not be returning to Hogwarts.” Headmaster Dippet had shifted nervously under his gaze. There was something being hidden from him. “You see- these things, when they occur- we can’t just be.”

“We couldn’t just tell you without permission from carers or Harrison.” Professor Dumbledore interjected. “You see, Tom, this is a rather sensitive situation. But, well…” He paused to inhale and made eye contact. “Harrison Porter is dead.” 

Tom felt his world shatter around him. His vision clouded and his breath came in sharp pants. He gradually became aware of moisture on his cheeks and a warm hand against him back. Mouth open he tried to speak but couldn’t make a sound.

“That was a bit too blunt maybe Albus.” Dippet’s hand rested on Tom’s shoulder reassuringly. “Harrison…he was your best friend, yes?” Tom tried not to choke when he spoke.

“Y…yes. If I may, how?” The teachers understood what he was asking. 

They explained that Harrison’s body had been found in front of the entrance to platform nine and three quarters at the end of the term. A first year had watched him walk through then, when she was on the other side; he had already been lying dead. The cause of death had been listed as a heart attack, strange but not unheard of in teenagers.

Tom hadn’t wanted to believe them. Such a mundane- muggle- death for his love? No. Harrison had been murdered. He was sure of it. Tom raised his head from his knees and he looked at the diary resting next to him. He wasn’t going to let himself die until he had revenge on those who took Harrison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks!


	3. Lies

Over the years Dumbledore had come to realise that storing memories in bottles was the best way to preserve them. In his old age he could never be sure of what he was forgetting after all. Thus, It had been a habit to do this since his years as a Hogwarts professor.

One day, while organising his memory collection, he came across a memory that he had no memory of. A boy. A boy with black hair and green eyes. He frowned as he watch the memory of him meeting the boy and decided that he needed to look further into this. He looked through memory after memory. (He was extremely shocked to find that the boy had been in a relationship with Tom Riddle!)

He pulled the last memory of the boy off the shelf in front of him and paused before pouring it in. the label read ‘Harrison death.’ Dumbledore was understandably reluctant about this but lowered his head anyway.

(Inside the memory)

Dumbledore watched his past self in what appeared to be an argument with the previous headmaster.

“We can’t just tell them he’s gone!” Dippet looked sweaty and scared as his eyes darted around the room. “What if the parents find out I’ve lost a student? Harrison Porter has wealthy friends you know!” 

“Calm down Armando.” Dumbledore watched as his past-self sat the frantic headmaster down. 

Past-Dippet continued, “We can just tell them he moved to America. The boy has no family, we’ll say he was adopted.” 

“I’m afraid that won’t work Armando. He has persistent friends here.”

“Yes, he is a Slytherin.” Dippet slumped in his chair. “But we can’t just tell them that the platform isn’t safe! We’ll lose students to that European school.

“There is one alternative…” Dippet looked up sharply. 

“Yes? Come one, out with it.” Everyone, past and future, turned to look at the door. Someone was knocking. Dippet lowered his voice, “Quickly,” he hissed.

Past Dumbledore’s face was grave. “We tell them he died. And adjust memories accordingly.” Dippet gasped- so did future Dumbledore- and would have protested but the door opened and Tom Riddle stepped into the room.

“Ah Tom. What can we do for you?” 

“I was wondering about Harrison Porter.”

Dumbledore watched as the memory swam and he was transported out. 

(Present (before weakness chapter 1))

“Harrison Porter?” Dumbledore smiled brightly as a fantastic idea occurred to him. “If Harrison Porter isn’t dead, then where is he?” And can he help us?


	4. Cleverness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thank you for being patient for this update if anyone is following. Also, what's the deal with people who favourite but don't follow unfinished stories?

Everywhere. He’s everywhere. His voice echoes in the halls and his warmth lingers but he’s gone. Tom knows this. It doesn’t mean that he accepts it though. His headache pounds continuously in the back of his mind, he can’t think with it there, always there.

"Harrison Porter is dead." Tom bites his lip and enters the library. Rows of books on all things magic are stacked against the walls, the smell of dust hits him immediately, and there are a few students throughout the wide room at the scattered desks. He doesn’t lower his head. Tom walks in calmly and continues through the aisles. He passes transfiguration, potions, and heads for the books at the back.

Tom coughs dust from his lungs as he lifts the ancient tome from one of the upper shelves. Memory and the mind: charms and tricks. He smiles and opens the cover careful to avoid tearing the yellowed pages. He flips through quickly scanning the pages for the perfect spell. Got it.  
He closes the book with a thump, turns on his heel then heads over to the librarian. A women who he’s sure has been around longer than the school itself; he shudders before he plants a pleasant smile on his tired face. 

“Good morning Miss, just this please.” She narrows her eyes at him and glances at the book.

“Hmmp. Name and house.”

“Tom Riddle. Slytherin.” She whispers something to the enchanted quill at her side and frowns. She glances once more at Tom then turns back to the quill.

“Bring it back whenever you want dear.” He voice is soft and he hates it. He can feel all their eyes on him, all their sympathy. And he loathes them all.   
It started the day after he was informed about Harri… the death. Careful looks and cautiously chosen words. Everyone fearing setting him off. “He lost his best friend.” “Harrison’s dead? Oh, poor Tom.” Poor Tom? They were the ones who would regret His death. If those stupid muggles hadn’t wanted him back at their orphanage then He would be alive. Muggles, they ruin everything.

Tom clenched his jaw, thanked the library and walked out with the book tucked carefully under his arm.

Once he was back in his dorm he opened the book again. Tom glanced around himself and shut the curtains tight around his bed; locking them with a hurried spell. The Slytherin dorms always seemed so cold without Him and staring at the lake through the glass no longer calmed Tom. No matter where he looked in his room there would always be the empty bed. The only empty bed.

Tom read well into the night until he found the spell he would need. Over and over again he repeated it until there was no way he could fail. He couldn’t, wouldn’t fail this. 

It happened slowly over the next few months. Students began to forget. Mentions of Him slowed gradually until he was a distant memory in the minds of few. But Tom became frantic too many remembered. He is mine. No one was allowed memory of Him but Tom. Eventually no one remembered Him except Tom but still the whisper clawed at his mind. 

“Harrison Porter is dead.” Tom sat alone in his bed, midnight crept closer until it lay minutes away. Tom slowly raised his wand to his head and pulled a copy of the memories he had. He entered his favourites into bottles and it was only once he had a row of glimmering glass resting on his green sheets that he realised his face was wet. He touched his face carefully and smiled. Not long now. He smiled, placed the memories bottles into a case, pushed it under the bed, then sat back and held up the small mirror. He had been given it by Him, ironic really considering what he was about to do. Tom raised his wand again, one last time until he would sleep. He would finally just sleep. He whispered the now familiar spell with his wand resting against the mirror. The spell reflected back and before he could wince it hit. He fell back against the silk pillow unconscious. And forgetting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be longer and from young!Tom Riddle's POV


End file.
